Drop of Possibility

with a corner of sweet red wine left in her wine glass on the end table, she sat in a slightly oversized racerback tank, leopard print bra, hot pink lace hipsters, and fuzzy leopard slipper socks. the only thing put together on her was her hair: pulled back and neatly gathered into a glittered gold rectangle hair clip - very Chistmasy.


she sat indian styled on her plush California king bed with feet intertwined like a pretzel and tucked underneath her, all while pounding against the keys of her laptop. thinking aloud through her fingers, she couldn't for the life of her, even years later, figure out what was it about her and about them that made him venture off.


by all means, he had it all; at least all of what the average man she thought desired. she was the refreshing image of what a woman was to look and sound like: well put together even on her bad days in fitted jeans, collegiate tees and hoodies with clean furry boots or designer clogs. she handled business sometimes better than a man without negating the "womanly duties" bestowed upon her when her father's sperm decided she'd be born with a split versus a pole.


she'd given him everything: hot, home cooked meals where she'd slave over hot pots and pans served with ice cold drinks and napkins folded cleanly under his plate - served to him. she never called him into the kitchen to retrieve his meals. she always waltz her smooth brown flesh into whatever room he was in and served him. she washed clothes, sheets, carpets, and backs if need be. she was the listening ear he'd said he never had, the friend he needed and the lover he prayed for. she did it all. and not to mention, she was a whole theatrical act in the bedroom, shower, living room, and kitchen (when not cooking of course). whatever he wanted or needed, he had.


but all wasn't enough. as if more could be sought and found. different, yes. more, absolutely not.


and here she was, years down the line, trying to decipher what was it that made him do that to them, and to her.


she questioned her own thoughts on the fact that such questions were even being posed. it didn't matter, but, it did matter. no one likes or wants or desires to be wronged. even more so, no one wants to be hurt and to live to speak on it and relive the pain when the hurt has been instilled upon them by one who was their lover. their partner. and in some cases, the key to their future - or so they thought.


her love was and still is ingenious. craved and desired by the minions who crossed her path. damn near perfect, yet, she had not been able to wrap her head around the sheer selfishness and stupidity in the decisions that were made on his behalf that affected and tainted her view of love and relationships.  and she knew it was all out of stupidity and self-centeredness, but her being a woman, it made no sense to her. she knew it wasn't her. couldn't have been. especially not when you get the whole shebang. she knew she wasn't the average woman with average wants and needs or even an average attitude or personality.


she just could never wrap her head around any of it. she knew she probably would never be able to come to grips with the situation. and yet, she'd provided chance upon chance being hopeful and convincing herself that there was enough faith to try. she was glad she'd finally left well enough alone as she realized that even glasses half full of hope grow to be half empty. and eventually, the half empty can barely spare a drop of possibility. 


closing her laptop just as she heard his keys jingling in the door, she looked towards the door of their bedroom as he and his deep dark brown eyes met with hers. they smiled as he made his way over to her and placed several sets of soft kisses upon her lips. she realized then that there was a reason for all of the past shenanigans: so she could see what was sitting and waiting in front of her. so she could walk away from what use to be and what could have been. so she could be loved by who wanted to love her all along. the faith she'd given then to one who didn't deserve it, was the same faith she used to walk out on and grab hold of the love she needed all along.

***

Before You I Stand

I've stood before you
bare and naked
pleading for understanding
and the love that not that I believe,
but that I know I deserve.
I've stood before you
screaming and silent
attempting to help you
find our middle.
I've stood before you
as I am
and as you know know me,
in every bit of my essence,
hyper-sexualized and on the prowl
for you.
I've stood before you
barefoot and nude
with breasts exposed and
moving to their own tune,
needing and wanting
you to see me for me -
as I am,
and as I will become.
I've stood before you
with tears staining my skin
and tearing my heart to shreds.
I've stood before you
as your best friend
and potentially as your worst enemy
fighting for the best of us,
desiring and needing
the best from us.


So now,
I stand before you
prepared for forever
and what's to come. 
I am here as I am,
as all that I can be,
and as I hope to become,
praying silent prayers
that only my God can hear,
that we will become we,
as we are
and we are to become.

Better & More

"Being at a place where you no longer care is never a good place to be, but, it's often the best place because that's where we put ourselves first."

These words I posted on Twitter when it finally hit me that the situation I'd once again found myself in, I was in, but no longer cared about it or anything but me. And I was and am ok with such feelings. It doesn't bother me.


I always talk about self-worth, self-love, and how we, especially us women, deserve better, more - the best. But we also know that to get such things, a demand is created. Just like closed mouths don't get fed, a heart's desire is never satisfied if we don't pursue its wants and sometimes, its needs.


The steps to a better life, to the lives we want for ourselves always began with us. Point blank. There's no other place, no better place than there to began.


For four years, we tried endlessly to make us work. Call it forcing, contrived, or imaginary, we fought in our own ways, for our own reasons or motives, to make that thing work. One may have felt or thought they did more, experienced more or less pain, gave more of themselves for something that they wished and prayed for some sort of positive return. But oftentimes, God doesn't give us what we want or what we think we should have because it's not meant for us to have. This is a realization that never quite hit me until I decided I was finally done. After countless attempts to work, I caved, and gave into myself. Decided that I was and am too good of a woman to allow someone to use me as target practice. To brandish my heart with actions that left it heaving for air on those nights when the "I'm sorry" and "It was a mistake" weren't enough. Granted, I know he would beg to differ - these are my thoughts and feelings. I'd reached a point when thinking and whispering to myself that I deserve better and more, needed to be known all across the board. Subtle voice undertones and text rants about what I thought I deserved, no longer worked; I knew I deserved better and more, and was going to go to whatever lengths necessary to make sure I received them. And it didn't matter how anyone perceived it - as long as it was known.


Because of then and those moments that I spent alone with myself and with my heart and its contents spilled out ahead of me, I've found myself beginning again.  And as difficult of a decision this has been, I realize it's the best one for me. A chapter has been closed in my life, for new ones to have the opportunity to begin and the option to end. And I welcome them and their many facets with open arms. I welcome my life's forthcoming chapters with an endearing, understanding type of love that only I can comprehend. No amount of love or life songs can adequately describe just how I feel or what exactly lies in my heart. But I know I deserve better and more. And I commend myself on giving me to opportunity to live and the option to experience myself, by myself, and alone in my own skin.

Jill Scott, Hear My Call

I know I've posted this video on a past blog piece, but this is poignant and important :)

the best that i {had} and now {seek}

At the end of the day, and the fact of the matter, is that I did more than necessary, and did my best. Gave my all and borrowed from places outside of myself to provide what my heart could not do on its own.


Everybody's got opinions and there are multifaceted sides to all stories: the good ol' your's, mine, and the truth. But let it be whatever it is and whatever it will become, so long as we both know that I gave my all and more than I really should have. More than I even had remaining in me. More than I could fathom. More questions than answers. More tears than smiles. More pain than joy. I know, without a shadow of doubt or a second of uncertainty, I did my best and gave my all. And it is this fact that hurts the most. Not even that it's over. Or that I've returned to square one, to start from scratch, but, that I, a young 24 year old woman endured and fought, gave her all and quite possibly her best.


I don't know which way to turn or what foot to start with, but I know to move and keep moving. I can't say when will I give into love and usher myself into a relationship again. But right now, that's not even on my list, yet, it is a heavy question that beckons me. Did you give so much of yourself that possibly, you may not be able to do it again? Who knows. I take this moment and those forthcoming to take care of me. To put myself 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. To ensure that I am spiritually, physically, and mentally together and solid.


Right now is about me. And yes, I know I was not thee best, but damnit, I was thorough. I was strong, sensitive, and it. And I refuse to settle for anything less. 


So as you and I reinvent our lives and began from scratch, and I close this chapter of my life, I seek the best of me that I gave to you. I don't expect it back, but I need it back. I need to know that there is a figment, a piece of me that I can plant and watch it flourish; to watch it grow.

Maxwell, Pretty Wings

"But I ain't the world my love, I'm your woman"

There's a lot to be said and written about love and relationships; whether intimate ones, platonic ones, friendships, familal ones. There are those relationships that change and postively impact lives; destroy them too. Those that are endearing and compassionate, and of course, those that will suck every bit of energy out of your body.

But the love relationship, is an odd person. Its feelings are soft and gentle, and sometimes, unyeilding and stubborn. The twisted dichotomy of the love relationship is the attempt to find balance between the moments and times when the bed we sleep in is fractured and our joints tighten and backs ache all while our heart strings are pulled into a direction that it wants, and should be. Love, is like the sheer ugliness of a rose's genetic makeup: scarred with thorns, it too struggles to become who and what it is, to discover and realize its beauty in a world full of hostility and misunderstandings.

Yes, love in its natural state is fun and not serious at all; it is free flowing, and withstands all trials and tribulations of life. But the love relationship entwined with individuals and their emotions, thoughts, past, current, and future baggage, is not all fun and games, because people run it and people make mistakes. People do what they want, and not what love, naturally, requires them to do. People do what the world says they ought to, and not what they geniunely, in their heart of hearts, want to do - for themselves and for the survival of their love. People, tend to convince themselves that no one, not even their partner, understands their personal struggles; the struggles outside of us, outside of the here and now.

These facts are solidified and repeated in the words of a beautifully written and sung Jill Scott poem, Ain't A Ceiling. The words, are just as striking in print and to the eyes, as they are in sound and to the ears. She sings in an endearing tone, an understanding one:

So I want to step off with was, and start with right now.
You say, "the world just don't understand"
But I aint the world my love, I'm your woman
And I know how deep it really goes
trying to tread on a dream when the water feels low

And this, is what it's really all about. Reaching the point when the tears stop and for a moment in time, however short it may be, we're able to say I get you! I understand your emotional make-up and because of that, WE can do this.

It's ok and it's quite necessary to comfort and ease the spirits of our loves: whether they be intimate ones, platonic ones, friendships, or familal ones. But special caution has been taken for love relationships for they are forever gentle whether they've existed for 3 months or 68 years. Love, should not be taken for granted regardless of what facet it exists; whether it be a friend, brother, or the homeless woman on the street who simply needs a smile to let her know someone understands.

And by my being a woman who's experienced some things and have gone thru some things and felt and witnessed and wanted and needed, some things, all due to love, there's nothing better than being on the same page with your partner. There's nothing better than knowing when I wake in the morning, our love, will continue to be unyeilding. And this, will continue, so long as you understand that ...I ain't the world my love, I'm your woman"

Ain't A Ceiling, Jill Scott, Def Poetry Jam 2007